


land before you drown

by orphan_account



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-14
Updated: 2008-07-14
Packaged: 2017-10-11 08:43:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/110536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter and Caspian and the eternal gates they cross.</p><p>This story does not follow the events of the books as depicted in "The Voyage of the Dawn Treader"; it goes book-AU after Prince Caspian and AU right before the movie-ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The last days after the war was won, before the coronation, Caspian tried to spend as much time as he could with the Pevensies. He could feel it, as he had been feeling it since Aslan had proclaimed him King of Narnia, that they'd be leaving soon, that there was no time. And he liked them, all of them. They were so different from what he knew. There had never been children around to play with, back in the castle, only soldiers and books for company, and the children he did know, the occasional kitchen girl or boy, they had to work, were no fun for games and play.

The Pevensies, they were like him, but they were also from another world. They had so much to tell, so much to share. And they liked to talk, oh how they liked to talk. It was nice, to listen to someone else's adventures. Caspian had always been a better listener, never a big talker himself. It was too dangerous, that was what he'd been taught since he could walk, too dangerous to tell other people about yourself.

The Pevensies had no such qualms. Lucy told him all about a Faun she'd met when they'd been here last time, Mr. Tumnus, about school back at home, wherever home was, about the war that was raging, and how scared she was every time the sirens echoed through the night-air. "It's not like I have my cordian bottle with me there," she said, earnest little face and huge eyes. "People get hurt and die. It's in the papers every day. It's horrible. And... what if Peter gets hurt, or Susan?"

Caspian knew all about war. He just nodded.

Susan didn't like to spend much time with him. He flustered her, he knew that now, and he had no experience with girls, so he didn't know how to stop whatever it was that set her off. When he tried to be nice, things got awkward, and when he was distant, she acted like she was hurt or insulted and he didn't understand. So he kept his distance, and resigned himself to looking. She was beautiful, after all, and he was happy with just looking, if he was honest. She scared him a bit.

Edmund didn't scare him, but Edmund had his own mind, and he was a rather quiet boy. He spent most of his time thinking, or daydreaming. Caspian enjoyed silence, always had, enjoyed being silent with Edmund, but it was not the silence he needed right now.

So he turned to Peter, because Peter gave. Caspian wasn't used to taking, not gratefully. By force, sometimes, or because he had to, but never because someone else gave, willingly. Peter was... he didn't know what Peter was. Peter made his stomach clench and gave him tingles up and down his spine. It felt nice.

He spent a lot of time with the Pevensies, but most of that time was spent with Peter. That started on the first day, in the castle gardens, when he caught Peter climbing out through the window and said, "What are you doing?", and Peter blushed like he was still a boy. Which, Caspian then realized, he was. He was not really a man - Caspian'd lost sight of that, after that first meeting. It was the sword and the armor and the hard warrior look on his face when he had to wield it that made him seem adult.

That look was also what made Caspian wake up at night, sheets sticky against his skin from the dreams he had of Peter doing things to him, things he wouldn't ever tell anyone about. Things he didn't know whether to be embarrassed or aroused by. He didn't know if he should want them, or if they were wrong. The fact that he couldn't tell worried him.

But when Peter blushed, he was a boy, Caspian's age, and that was different. Peter said, "I'm - breaking out," and he looked like he didn't want to be caught at that.

"There's a door," Caspian pointed, a grin tugging at his lips, and Peter answered it with one of his own, rather sheepish.

"Let's just say I don't want to use that one, specifically. I might or might not be under house arrest."

"Peter the Magnificent, High King of Narnia, under house arrest?" Caspian teased, tried it out, how it would feel on his tongue, saying the words. Careful of Peter's expression, his eyes. He saw the four siblings do it all the time, but maybe it wouldn't be welcome from him.

He needn't have worried, because Peter laughed. "You're never going to let me forget that one, are you?" he asked, and jumped. It was barely four feet under the windowsill, and Caspian was no coward, so he followed.

"Where are you going?" Caspian asked.

"Just out," Peter said. "I've had enough strategizing for one day." He glanced back at Caspian. "Isn't this your job now? I was planning on enjoying Narnia my last few days here. You're the King in charge these days, if I'm not wrong."

Caspian nodded, taken aback. "I'm sorry if I've neglected my duty," he said, chastised. He hadn't realized his generals were going to Peter for help. A sting of apprehension went through him at the thought. He'd assumed everything was going to lay at rest until after the formal ceremony.

"It's okay," Peter said quickly, gaze going soft. "Don't worry. I didn't mean to pick on you. You'll learn how to keep everything in order, and to govern or to let things be where either is needed soon enough. Until then, I can always take a bit of the workload off your shoulders. Does that sound acceptable?" His hand was warm on Caspian's shoulder. There was a new look in Peter's eyes, one he'd only ever given his younger siblings before. It was gentle, as if he understood.

Caspian felt himself redden. "That would be nice," he said. "You could teach me before you have to leave. I don't know much about governing a country, or a world. My uncle wasn't exactly the best example - I mean... I want to be a good ruler, you know? Doctor Cornelius taught me history and the stars and geography, but politics - it was - I want Narnia to prosper, and the people here to be happy?"

"I'm certain we'll work it out together," Peter smiled. "I've spent fifteen years in Narnia, after all, doing just that. Even though that was 1300 years ago. Things can't have changed too much. And if they have, we'll figure it out. Right?"

A nod was all Caspian managed before Peter grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the gardens. "But first," he added, "we're going to enjoy ourselves. I've had enough stuffy backrooms and maps of Narnia and plotting wars to come. The Giants of the North can wait another few years for the invasion."

Caspian, as so often when in Peter's company, did not know what to say, so he stayed silent and enjoyed the warmth of Peter's hand clasping his own. Peter's fingers were strong, callused from the sword, like he hadn't carried one for a long time. He had nice hands. Caspian's stomach fluttered and he looked at the back of Peter's head instead, which was safer than the fit of his tights or the way he licked his lips when they'd dried out from the sun.

 

~*~

 

"What is it like?" Caspian asked. They were by the waters, the ocean swapping up onto the shores. The harbour was south, down the beach, the ships still visible in the distance, over the cliffs. They'd walked side by side for hours, shoes leaving a trace of imprints on the sand that would vanish with the wind. It was too hot to be dressed up like they were, but Peter didn't complain and Caspian didn't want to offend him by undressing before him. "What do you do, in that world of yours? Lucy told me there are wars as well. Are you a king in your world, too?"

Peter gave him another one of those smiles, but it was not only gentle this time, but also condescending, like he was talking to a child. It made Caspian narrow his eyes. This part of Peter, he'd gotten to know fairly well in the past days and weeks. Arrogance, conceit. He didn't like it very much. "Don't look at me like I am stupid," he said, irritated. "I've never seen another world before."

Peter held up a hand and looked at the sea, clearly embarrassed. "I always manage to get you up in arms so quickly," he half-apologized without really apologizing. "I don't mean to treat you like you're stupid, I promise. It's hard, sometimes. With all the things we've seen -"

"Well, I haven't," Caspian tried to make him see. "I've spent fifteen years of my life imprisoned, and the rest fighting my way out of that prison. But I will understand if you explain once. It's not that hard to imagine, is it?" He fell silent. "Or maybe it's me, and I just look that stupid."

"You're certainly pretty enough to fit the stereotype," Peter muttered, almost too quietly to catch. Caspian had good hearing, however, and his cheeks heated up at once. "Sorry," Peter laughed. "Sorry, that was a compliment. You don't look stupid."

"I didn't -" Caspian started, and gave up immediately on the attempt. "I know," he just said. "Thank you." He could still feel his cheeks burn.

"Has nobody ever told you that you're handsome?" Peter wondered, incredulous. "Susan must have, at some point, or maybe Lucy? Some other girls? Maybe not a boy, though."

"No," Caspian said shortly, then changed the subject. "About your world -"

"Oh, yes." Peter grinned that sheepish grin of his again. "There are wars on Earth, but I'm certainly not a king, and as far as I'm concerned, I'm not going to have a part in any wars there. It's different from Narnia, it's not personal. Here, you have sword-fights and the farthest you can hurt someone from is an arrow's flight. In our world, there're machines that reach so far that you won't see your attacker, there're planes in the sky, like birds, dropping bombs - things that explode upon hitting a target, killing dozens of people at once. It's - it's like the game when you drop a stone on an ant-nest."

Caspian stared. "What a horrible game," he said. "What a horrible world you come from. Why is Aslan sending you back there? I thought he was just and gracious. With everything you've done for Narnia, surely, you deserve at least a kingdom of peace."

"It's time," Peter shrugged. "You can't just run away from a trial like this. And really, our world's not all bad. There's the war, sure, but there are also - there are games and school and books and playing hide-and-seek in huge mansions. There are all the people I care about. There is life, you know? Different life. Growing up, meeting someone to fall in love with. It's a fair exchange. The last time, when we grew adult in Narnia, it was - it was wonderful, but it was also very different. The talking animals are great - especially Lucy gets along with them, but they think in other ways than humans do. They don't understand us, and we don't understand them, for the most part. We've learned a lot about their ways, but you'll see once you've shared the lands with them for a while that it's best to leave them in peace. They have their own order. Don't ever interfere in the order of the talking animals."

They walked on for a while in silence, Caspian thinking about the words, Peter biting his lip, almost like he wanted to add something but couldn't bring himself to, and then he suddenly pointed and said, "There's a good place," as if it had been something he'd been looking for all this time.

Caspian stared at him open-mouthed as he sped off, puzzled, and then saw with growing trepidation that Peter was losing his clothes, one garment after the next, until there was nothing left and he was naked except for his breeches. Caspian felt his heart skip a beat in shock, then a surge of arousal that made him sharply inhale.

Peter turned to him and called, "What're you waiting for? This is the perfect place for swimming! Come on. The water's nice!"

So it was an order. Caspian told himself he had no choice and sighed, then walked over to the bundle of clothes Peter had created and started to undress slowly as he watched Peter walk into the ocean, feet vanishing beneath, up to the ankles. White foam formed atop the shore waters as they enmeshed sharp stones that protruded from between the waves. Then he was wet to his knees, thighs, and his sparse cover clung to his backside as he finally plunged head-first in.

Caspian had swum before, but never like this, never for fun. Never with someone. He didn't quite know what to do, so he decided to just take the plunge - so to speak. Feeling horribly naked and exposed, he rushed in after Peter, trusting on his friend's words and almost felt his lungs give out when the waves crashed into his skin, covering his back and stomach, and left him gasping from cold.

Peter laughed beside him, breaking through the surface, hair stuck to his skull. His eyes reflected the shade of the ocean, drops caught in his eyelashes, glistening. Caspian swam after him, trying to keep up. "Liar," he said, still heaving with shock.

"Wha-?!" Peter protested, gripping Caspian's arm as he turned in half-dive. "It's warm!"

"Your lips are getting blue."

"You're such a wuss," Peter said amiably and ruffled Caspian's hair before swimming away.

"I am not," Caspian protested.

"So stop whining."

"But it's cold!"

Peter snorted water and pulled him under. Caspian closed his eyes and relaxed and let him, and admitted to himself that he didn't mind that so much. As long as Peter kept his arms around his waist just like that, forever, he wasn't cold. The spots where their bodies touched were burning hot.

 

~~~


	2. Chapter 2

When they returned in the evening there was a dinner feast already in full swing. It wasn't very huge - nothing, Peter thought, compared to the feasts they'd had back when they'd been at Cair Paravel, being crowned, or later, when it had been just for fun, with the talking animals, the fauns, the centaurs once they'd gotten over their initial distrust of entering a human refuge.

This time, Susan had apparently invited most of the Talmarins to join from down by the havens as well, and she approached them with a rather irritated expression when they, both surprised, tried to backtrack quickly as they could to go change into more royal clothes. Caspian looked startled, guilty as well as in awe. Peter had no such problems.

"Where were you?" she asked them, stemming her fists on her hips. "Peter?"

Peter returned her glare easily. "Swimming."

"Well, you look like it. You shouldn't go far, you know that. It's not safe." She was looking at Caspian like he was going to jump Peter and attack him.

Not that Peter would have had anything against that, potentially, as long as the attacking didn't lead to any actual fighting, unless it was the scuffling around on floor, rubbing up against each other kind. He snorted. "It's as safe as it ever was. It's Narnia. If there was a threat still out there, d'you think Aslan would have kept quiet about it? It's his... what do you call it? Idyllic place."

"Be that as it may. You should get dressed. You're still High King, and you should be presentable during dinners like this."

"Oh, don't get your panties all bunched up, we just looked into the Great Hall, people are enjoying themselves just fine without me playing host."

"We should still show the two of you off, too," she added, sounding a bit hurt as his harsh tone. "After all, people are unsure about the alliance and the best way to reassure them that their king is a king of Narnia is to present the two of you as friends."

"Well, tell them we went swimming together," Peter smirked. "That'll be way better than us being all stiffly pretending with each other anyway."

"Oh, shut up." But Susan was starting to smile too. "Caspian, help me out against this berk here."

Caspian bit his lip, looking back and forth between them. "I'll have him back in the hall in ten minutes?" he suggested.

"Dressed, if you can help it. No way can you get Peter out of his soggy clothes and into dry royal gear in ten minutes."

"Oh, I've dressed in less time than that myself," Caspian started to smile. "His clothes can't be that different from mine."

"Fine, but really, boys, Lucy and me can't hord this lot off for forever, and Edmund's been making himself suspiciously scarce."

"Centaurs," Peter said, grinning. "I bet they're hiding him. Or, you know. Getting him drunk again on their brew."

"Oh God," Susan groaned. "Go, get ready. I'll go save him."

Peter snorted, but he didn't wait to see Susan close the hall doors behind herself, turned and made his way towards the stairs. "Not likely he'll need saving," he muttered.

"She is not very mad, is she?" Caspian asked suddenly. Peter hadn't even noticed he'd caught up.

"No, not at all. She was just acting all put out, she's not mad at all. That's Susan. Sometimes, she loves to make things more dramatic, you know. For the sake of it."

"Oh." That seemed to give him something to think about. "I don't think I understand that," Caspian finally said when they reached the top landing. He turned towards the right hallway where his room lay, on the far end, flanked left and right by higher born Telmarin soldiers, but Peter caught his wrist.

"I thought you were going to give me a hand?" he asked, eyes flashing with mirth.

Caspian stared, mouth opening, than he closed it again and narrowed his eyes. "You're making fun of me."

"No, I swear, I'm not," Peter said, but he was amused. Caspian took things far too seriously sometimes. "I was just taking you up on an offer you made earlier."

"I thought you two were joking," Caspian muttered.

"Well, we were. But I'll get it done faster if you help anyway." Caspian was still hesitating, so he sighed, rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly and added, "You don't have to, of course, but I promise on my honor that your virtue is safe with me."

Caspian blushed furiously. "My - my what? No, I didn't mean to imply - it's just that I thought -" and then he stuttered a bit more and some terms like 'privacy' and 'undress' and even 'servants' might have made an appearance, but Peter couldn't be too sure. He was very much fascinated with the way Caspian was almost acting like he wasn't too averse to the idea of Peter endangering his virtue.

In the end, Caspian trotted along behind him, with Peter still holding onto his wrist, pleased with himself. And it hadn't even taken all that long to get Caspian to get over himself.

 

~*~

 

Of course, Peter was by far not the virgin Caspian was turning out to still be - or rather, he might have been a virgin yet only because there hadn't been much time to find someone to have sex with in the year they'd been back to England from Narnia - but he'd kissed his share of girls, and two boys, one of which had been a mistake but the other of which had been the one to persuade him that he might actually rather prefer his own gender for these things.

And it wasn't like there was a shortage of people fancying him. Peter was well aware of his looks. When he needed to accomplish something, he had no shame using them as he saw fit. They were gifts, after all, and why not employ them when he already had them?

It wasn't a huge surprise then, that undressing led to a kiss before they could even get past the first couple buckles, and that the kiss turned out to be more than just a touch of lips on lips when Caspian, surprised, gasped, and Peter pressed their still drenched bodies together, fitting them like two books on a shelf. Caspian stumbled back against the onslaught of tongue pushing into his mouth and hands wandering from his hips, steadying, to his chest. Peter was seeking skin, but with the knightly clothes, it was hard to reach, all the little knots and ties and parts that were bound together, in the way, resisting.

They parted for air, and Caspian had his eyes squeezed shut almost like he didn't want to see, so Peter said, "Hey, are you okay?" against his neck, breathing harshly.

"Fine," Caspian panted, and then his gripped Peter harder around his waist and pulled him in. "Fine, just - are you sure -?"

"Yeah, pretty," Peter assured him. "You aren't?"

"I don't know." He sounded it, too. "I thought - and you're the High King, and what about the royal line?"

"What?" Peter blinked. He shoved away from Caspian, taking a step back to clear his head. The tension in the air drained, leaving him to feel cool and disoriented.

Caspian was looking at him, worry in his huge eyes. His hair was messy, his lips puffy red and swollen where Peter'd kissed them sore. He was even prettier like this than after a fight, Peter decided, and felt himself grow aroused again at the thought. But there were more important things to discuss, and he wasn't planning on just jumping Caspian without getting all doubts out of the way first. After all, he rather hoped this wouldn't be something that left regrets afterwards.

"I - I'm not quire sure -" Caspian started again. He ran the back of his hand over his mouth. "I haven't been taught - I've never had a girl, I mean, I don't think I can do this. For you." He was blushing again.

Peter cringed. "I'm not expecting you to do anything for me," he said quickly. "I was just - I mean, I like you, and I thought you liked me, and I do kind of fancy you, you know. You're really good-looking. So I thought we could have fun, kiss. See where it goes?"

"I like you," Caspian blurted. "A lot. I liked swimming, and having fun."

"But not the kissing?" Peter forced himself not to sound too disappointed.

"I was just surprised. I liked the kissing. I wasn't sure because I thought you weren't supposed to kiss. Me."

"There's - oh. You meant. Okay, let's. We should - oh dear." Peter rubbed his forehead. "Okay, first, let's get out of these clothes. I'm getting really uncomfortable."

"Should I leave?"

"No, no, you - or rather, you need to change, too, right?"

"Yes."

"So keep your word and help me out of this mess, and then we can both change. Then you come back. Susan can wait some more, we should..." he felt himself grow uncomfortable at the thought. "I think we should have a talk about all that stuff. Didn't your mum ever talk to you about this?"

Caspian blinked. "I don't think so."

"Dad?"

"My uncle - I mean. He just said that once I was of age, he'd find me a suitable girl to marry and breed with. So we could have heirs."

Peter stared open-mouthed. "Really?"

"Yeah. Well, it's what every king does, right?"

Peter looked at him, narrowing his eyes. "And what am I, then? The local jester? Do you see me getting married?"

"No," Caspian flushed again. "But - in your world, maybe it's different. How should I know?"

"Well, two boys, it's not exactly something people accept in my world, but... oh darn. We really should get out of the wet clothes." He held up his arms. "Now, where do I start with this thing? It's been ages since I last took one like it off."

Caspian walked behind him, snickering quietly.

Peter felt himself soften. "You can laugh at me, you know? It's not a felony. You have a nice laugh."

And there he went again with the blushing. Peter grinned.

 

~*~

 

After they had both changed into clean, dry clothes, their hair not longer dripping either, Caspian returned to Peter's room, rather more hesitantly than Peter would have liked after their quick bout of snogging before. He'd have thought that would calm Caspian down, but on the opposite, it seemed to have made him more nervous than before.

"Okay, let's see," he chewed on his lip. "First off, being a king doesn't mean you have to produce heirs. You can, but mostly, Narnia governs itself. For all I know, you can pick up any kid off the street corner if you think he or she will be best suited to be the next king or queen. Okay? You don't have to marry or sleep with a girl to make her bear your heir. Especially if you don't love her or if she doesn't want to or something like that."

Caspian frowned. "But in Telmarin -"

"We're Narnians," Peter interrupted before Caspian could finish that sentence. "It's different. Your way of dynastic monarchy is what killed your father and almost you in the first place. It's not about bloodlines. It's about the ability to serve the land, to make Narnia a good world for everyone to live in. Who knows if your kids would be able to follow in your footsteps? For all you know, they might not even want to be kings or queens and rather become - I don't know. Pirates."

"Pirates?"

"Uhm, forget it?" Peter sighed. "You get what I mean, right?"

Caspian nodded.

"So when you feel you need to start teaching someone else to become king, try to find someone who'll be capable of that kind of responsibility?"

"But why can't you choose someone?"

Peter looked away. "I'm not staying for long."

"I know." Caspian touched his shoulder. "I just hoped - well. I hoped it would be longer. That we'd have some more time to - spend together."

There was a sweetness in his voice Peter wasn't used to, so he turned to him and grasped his hand in his own, blistered and rough as it was from sword-use. "Hey," he tried to cheer up the rather gloomy air that had befallen them. "Since we've already established that we quite like each other as long as our war strategies don't completely adverse, I think it's not so bad. And we've had a couple weeks together, which is nice, right?"

"But -"

Peter shrugged. "It's not like we can change it," he muttered.

Caspian took a deep breath. "I know. Aslan wants you to go back as quickly as possible, I guess."

And it wasn't even the feeling of butterflies in his stomach whenever he looked at Caspian that he would miss most, or the kisses, though sweet they were and he'd miss them a lot. He knew it would be the way Caspian looked at him, like he was something special not because he was High King of Narnia, but because he was Peter.

 

~*~

 

It was hard at first, after that talk, to pretend everything was normal and okay, especially since Peter himself had no idea how long he would stay here still, only that he had to leave soon. He knew it was too risky to actually fall in love with someone from Narnia, that there was no way it wouldn't hurt like hell anyway to leave now, not only because he loved the land, the animals, the skies, but also because he'd grown a little attached to the way he could tease Caspian, or talk with him without feeling stupid.

He didn't fool Lucy though, who found him standing on a balustrade on a gallery that oversaw the sea, staring out into the cool night sky.

"Boy, you're gone," she muttered in that insolent tone of voice she sometimes adopted when she knew just what was going on and had no inclination to keep it to herself.

"I told Susan I'd be back in a few minutes, Lucy. If she's so concerned with what people think of Caspian, why doesn't she parade him around?"

"Not what I meant," Lucy said. She stepped beside him, grabbing the railing, and she was almost too small to be able to look over it, so she made a funny picture. "I meant you're gone over him."

"What are you talking about?"

"Caspian. You've been staring at him all night with... uhm, what's that word. Moonstruck. And now you're sulking out here, being all sullen and emotionally suffering."

"I am not," Peter protested, though he almost certainly was. He wasn't about to admit it to Lucy, though, who was far too smug for her own good already anyway.

"Susan likes him, you know that, right?"

"Susan likes him because they'd look good on paper. If there was photography in Narnia, be sure she'd be taking lots of photographs with herself hanging onto his arm."

Lucy giggled. "You two are so silly. Poor Caspian. Won't know who to visit tonight."

Peter turned to look at her, astonished. "What do you know about nightly visits, Miss Pevensie?"

"I'm ten, not two, Peter," Lucy said huge-eyed. "Of course I know that people who like each other sleep together in one bed."

Peter groaned. "Great. I'm not going to invite him into mine, for your information."

Lucy snorted. "That's because you're a stubborn idiot. You only have a few days left. If you like him a lot, why not show it? Not like it'll go away either way, so you might as well go for it."

Peter shook his head, but when she left, he had to admit that for a kid her age, she did have somewhat of a point about this matter. Which was a creepy thing to consider, so he ignored where the advice had originated and decided that if Caspian could get over himself, so could he.

When the midnight banquet was finished and the guests had almost left, he cornered Caspian by the exit doors and caught his gaze, locking eyes. "Come with me?" he offered on a whim, almost too casual except he hoped Caspian would know exactly what he meant.

By the blush across Caspian's cheeks, he knew very well. He didn't reply, only ducked his head in embarrassment and hurried out, boots echoing with loud clacking steps off the floor. Peter bit his lip, looking after him, until someone grasped his shoulder.

Susan was staring, head tilted to the side. "What's going on?" she asked. "Something wrong?"

"No," Peter said and touched her hand, kissing her cheek as he leaned over. "Everything's fine. Edmund and Lucy asleep already?"

"Edmund went to his room before the banquet, and Lucy's fallen asleep against one of the bears. I'll leave her there, she looks comfortable. You going to bed, too?"

Peter gave the direction in which Caspian had vanished another long look. "Yes," he then said. "I think I will."

"I'll help do bits of the clean-up right now, then go to bed, too. Sleep tight, big brother. See you in the morning."

Peter smiled. Still wide awake, his Susan, and never too tired to clean up her messes. "You as well," he said. Maybe Lucy had been wrong, he concluded. Susan wasn't waiting for anyone, least of all Caspian.

 

~*~

 

Funnily enough, Lucy turned out to be right about one more thing, however, which was just as well, because it was a good thing.

They slept together, that night, Caspian with him in one bed. They just didn't have sex. When Peter arrived at his room a few minutes later, tired from climbing the stairs, Caspian wasn't there, but he slipped into the room right after Peter had finished undressing, putting on his night robes. He was dressed in his own comfortable nightclothes, looking ready to keel over any moment. They mutually agreed, as they smiled at each other, that it would be nice to have someone to just touch, and in the middle of mapping out each other's skin, kissing lazily, they fell asleep, curled around each other.

Peter awoke the next morning with Caspian's scent in his nose, his dark hair tickling his ear.

He didn't move for hours, or so it seemed, as the sun climbed higher and higher until the first rays finally managed to hit the floor of his room. He knew that meant it was still very early, but that was around the time Caspian started to move around restlessly in his embrace. He awoke a short time later, disoriented and a little scared until he realized it was Peter he was with.

That made him look quite mortified.

"We didn't even - oh," he muttered. "How embarrassing."

Peter snorted. "Isn't it? Here we have the opportunity of the bed, a whole night ahead of us, and we snog a bit and fall asleep."

"Too tired," Caspian sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Uhm, I was tired too?" Peter reminded him. "You know, at least in bed, you could let me forget that I outrank you. It's not that big a request, I don't think."

Caspian's face clouded. "I don't remind you all the time that you outrank me."

Peter rolled his eyes. "I know, I'm sorry. Actually, you're one of the few people who don't all the time. But sometimes, you have this way of apologizing for something that isn't even your fault, never mind that you care about whether or not I'll... I don't know. Stop liking you or something equally ridiculous."

"That's not because you outrank me," Caspian protested. "That's because I like you!"

"What?" Peter frowned. "How does that make sense?"

Caspian shrugged. "I like you. That's it. Nothing more to it. You're -" he looked up at Peter, raising his hand to push a strand of hair behind Peter's ear. "You're beautiful and light and good and powerful. Why is it so hard to imagine that I might be scared you'll stop liking me?"

"No," Peter admitted. "When you look at it like that, really not. But you really shouldn't say things like that." He hesitated.

"Fine," Caspian said. "I won't, then." And there was not much more for it. They got up, helped each other get dressed, and Peter couldn't help the feeling that he'd done something wrong, that he'd said something to offend Caspian. He just didn't know exactly what it had been.

 

~~~


	3. Chapter 3

They slept together a few days later, days which they spent lazily wandering the gardens. Peter noticed and ignored the questioning gazes Susan kept giving him, not knowing whether Caspian just didn't see them, or didn't let it show on his face if he did. They also ignored the requests for audiences by several important countrymen. When Caspian voiced worry about those, Peter just waved him away with a grin. "There'll be time enough for all of them to make their cases after you've got a crown on your head, don't worry. And you won't be making any decisions this soon anyway. Get some advisors first, hand-picked."

It wasn't an explosion of fire-works, nothing like it, though it was certainly combined with a burst of emotions. They were both inexperienced; Peter had at least kissed a few people before, Caspian nobody but Peter in the past few days, so it was more fumbling than anything. They kissed heatedly, Peter's tongue pushing into Caspian's mouth, his fingers caressing Caspian's back as they pressed their bodies together, other hand grasping his cock, palming it firmly, rubbing it up against his own. Caspian was gasping and moaning, close to the brink five minutes after they started already, though he fought for a few more minutes before giving in as Peter made him come into his fist.

They were in the gardens, hidden behind a labyrinth of bushes cut into funny shapes, pyramids and bowmen and even the occasional animal. There was a mouse with a blade that reminded Peter of something.

"Brought no towel," Peter groaned as he cleaned his hand against the grass. The sky was deep blue above them, sprinkled with clouds. Caspian snickered and pushed his head between the gap of his collarbone and chin, mouthing the delicate skin there. "Stop laughing," Peter admonished him, poking him gently. They weren't completely naked, just dropped their pants and raised their tunics to get at skin.

"Use my overcoat," Caspian murmured. "I'll give it to a servant to wash later and nobody'll be the wiser."

Peter gasped when he bit down. "Stop that. And in case you forgot, we're lying on your overcoat."

"We should get up," Caspian replied, voice serious. "The last fitting for my robe is probably going on right now. Without me. Someone's going to come looking for us."

"You're right, of course, but this is so nice." Peter sighed. "Fine. Let's raise to the occasion, then." But Caspian still had to grasp his hand and pull him up off the coat to make him stand. Peter put his arms around him then and just held him close, smelling him, the sex, the grass scent that was barely there beneath it all.

"We don't have time to do this again," Caspian reminded him, shooting a firm look at the growing bulge at the front of Peter's pants. "Don't even think about starting something again."

"You want to, too," Peter said smugly, pressing his hand against Caspian's cock and felt it harden against his fingers.

"No. Time," Caspian gasped and took another step back.

"After your fitting, then."

"Fine."

"Great. I'll be there to watch that. I bet it'll be great fun."

"Peter, I don't think -"

"Don't think your robes will fit you with me there, looking at you?" Peter teased, and kissed him when Caspian tried to protest.

 

~*~

 

They barely made it to dinner on time a few days later, the day before the coronation. They'd gone through the ceremony one more time with the rest of the appointed court and then, they'd sneakily disappeared through a secret hallway they'd found by accident. Caspian was still burning with the image of Peter's mouth around his cock, swallowing him as his tongue flicked over the tip, and he could barely help the thoughts mirroring it on his face. Lucy gave them a dirty look for being late. It was then they realized Aslan had come to the castle to share their table and dinner.

Peter felt Caspian freeze beside him, muscles locking up tight at the sight. He could feel himself startle as well, and then a peace came over him, a deep knowledge that this was it. It was good, he realized, that it was a numbing sort of peace, because otherwise he might have felt the pain descend like a thunderstorm. Caspian was not spared the sensation. His frail features blanched with sadness as his eyes darkened.

Peter took his hand then, squeezed and gave him a quick smile before he led them to their seats to sit, Caspian to his right. Aslan gave them a long, knowing look that radiated approval, maybe at the feelings themselves, or, Peter thought, maybe at the sudden showcase of courage. The silence around the table was enough to make him realize he'd just as good as shouted to everyone what they'd been up to the past weeks that they'd all but spent together, never seperated by more than an hour.

And surprisingly enough, he realized quickly that he couldn't care less what they were thinking. His eyes were on Caspian, his thoughts on getting him through the night. Certainly, he begged with all his heart, they'd have another night to spend together.

 

~*~

 

They made blind, passionate love the moment they touched Peter's bed, Caspian rocking against his hip, thigh between Peter's, rubbing up against his cock; they both moaned at the impact of sensations and Caspian came unexpected, the surprise written all over his features. Peter touched the lock fallen into his eyes, pushed it back behind his ear, burning the image of Caspian coming undone with ecstasy into the backs of his eyelids to never forget it, and then the image of Caspian taking a deep breath before licking a path up Peter's thigh, slowly cupping his balls while taking the head of his cock into his mouth.

Peter could only keen and wait for the onslaught of jolts up and down his spine to end. It took a long while to bring him down from orgasm this time, body shuddering as Caspian held him close, enjoying his own aftershocks of pleasure.

Peter was almost asleep, eyes closed and the glow finally fading when Caspian said, "I don't want you to go."

Peter bit his lip, immediately awake again, and he didn't regret that sleep would be cut short if it meant having this for a while longer. He could sleep back in England. Narnia was for adventures, for feelings never experiences, for battles never fought. "I don't want to go, either," he whispered.

"So why can't you just stay?"

Peter smiled into his hair. "Be your wife, bear your children?" he kidded.

"Shut up," Caspian kissed him deeply. "I'll miss you. Why do you have to go."

"Narnia has nothing more to teach me," Peter said. "I - I can't explain. There's this sense that it's over, inside me, that this has been - that 'us' is the thing that had to happen to me, this time, and now that it has, it's time for the last big step."

"How is being with me and then taking you from me something good?"

"I don't know," Peter said. "But I trust Aslan. He'll know why. And I didn't think a person could grow to love someone so quickly, but I didn't even realize that you've been precious to me from that very first swordfight we had, over disagreements and common ground. That's - important. That I found you."

"And lost me," Caspian added. "I don't - I just - it's just not fair, how am I supposed to ever love anyone else after I've had you?"

There was a brilliant smile on Peter's face. "I'm flattered."

"You're the biggest person I've ever met, Peter, you're a giant in personality, in strenght, in loyalty and goodness. Does Aslan like to give small people like me impossible tasks, then? Does he enjoy it, to torment us, take something away when we've found one thing that'll truly complete us?"

"How do you know he's taking that away?" Peter asked, careful. "You haven't even lived your life yet. You don't know what's in store. The only thing I know is that I have to leave and that I can still love you from the other side of the universe, just like I would Susan or Edmund or Lucy if I was to ever be seperated from them, and I know I will. It's part of growing up, and they'll go one way and I'll go another and it's just... maybe it's harder for you to accept because you've never had to go through this before, but I did, I left so many people and animals I loved behind, the last time I had to leave Narnia, and I've learned to accept that leaving people behind is not something we can help. And it's only been a few months. There are people you'll have your whole life to love."

Caspian still looked slightly teary, so Peter pulled him close and kissed him again and tried to distract him as well as he could for the rest of the night. There was a trickle of resentment left inside him, however, even after his big words, because he hadn't felt like this with anyone before, like they completed him, unafraid of him, willing to stand up and be like this with him - and he hated that Aslan thought it necessary to put Caspian through this. He knew why it was. Losing people you loved was the first preparation for death and as king, Caspian would have to learn to love his subordinates and see them die, sometimes, and suffer all the more for it. He hated that Aslan had chosen him as teaching method, though, them, together, not just a silly summer romance but a blackboard on the wall on which to point.

But maybe, he considered then, when Caspian finally fell asleep in his arms, exhausted and tired out, that wasn't what Aslan had in mind at all. It was so hard, Peter thought, to ever know what he was trying to achieve.

 

~*~

 

The coronation went off without a hitch, and Caspian got through it with a stoicity and determination that belied the exhausted despair that had been on his face this morning when he'd all but sat down on Peter to make him not leave.

And then Aslan opened the portal to England, back to the dirty train station, in front of all these people and Caspian had just stood there, watching Peter with hurt in his eyes. Lucy and Edmund seemed to feel that there was something going on out of their power, because they didn't say a word, not even to ask questions about why there was so much tension, so much sadness in the air.

Peter wouldn't leave Caspian's gaze. His heart was a heavy weight in his chest, his stomach hurting as the blood pumped fast. He was brave, and maybe he was even a good person, but he hadn't even known it would break his heart to leave Narnia behind forever, with the animals, the castles, the sea and the meadows, the ships, the people, and King Caspian in it.

Then Susan scoffed. "Oh, goddamnit Peter, just -" she turned to Aslan. "Can't he stay? Are you - it's so obvious he loves him."

Aslan shook what resulted in his whole body moving, mane standing in the breeze. "I'm afraid that's not possible, Susan. The four of you don't belong in this world forever, and what would you tell your friends and family in England, what of your future lives? Your adventures on Narnia happen in order to teach, to make you learn so you can go prepared into the real world to face whatever comes."

Susan bit her lip, then she ran over to Caspian, grasped his shoulder, and quickly pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I'll miss you, then. I'm sorry we didn't spend more time together."

Caspian stared after her as she ran towards the portal and vanished on the other side. Peter swore he had seen a tear run down her cheek and wondered if it was for them or for herself. He knew he'd never know and never ask. Lucy took Edmund's hand and turned to Aslan. "They won't ever come back, will they." It wasn't a question.

"No, Lucy," Aslan agreed. "Peter and Susan have been taught everything they needed to learn now. Their adult lives are waiting for them. I will see you and Edmund again, however. Now, hurry along. It's time, the gate will close after you."

Caspian had moved, had come up to Peter and Peter was almost certain he might just go and copy Susan with the tears, but his pride was saved by the hard embrace Caspian bestowed upon him. "Long live the king," he said into Peter's hair, and Peter laughed, sad.

"You were brilliant," he said. "Don't tell anyone I said, but I loved the way you handled your sword from the first moment."

"Not all you loved, I hope." And there it was, a twinkling laugh in Caspian's eyes too, which was all Peter could have hoped for. Caspian'd learned the art of teasing, after all.

"Farewell," he said and gave Caspian a sweet kiss on the lips.

He went through the gate after Lucy and Edmund, closing it behind him like a door, locked with a key. He knew, the moment he stepped through it, that he'd never walk into Narnia again.

 

~~~


	4. Chapter 4

The platform was filled with people waiting for the train, boarding and getting off it, students and adults alike. It was cold, and the air was almost grey in comparison to Narnia's splendor and vividness. Susan glanced around, taking in the familiarity of England, the sensation of being back near people like them, dressed in uniforms, back in the place they actually belonged in.

There were several soldiers standing around, a few of them maybe waiting for their families, some just leaving. There was a crying girl her own age, holding a young soldier's hand. There were always soldiers these days, no matter where you looked. The world seemed to be populated with them, and not much else.

Susan tore her gaze away and glanced at Peter with concern. She could clearly see his face, turned away from Lucy and Edmund, devastated and afraid. For a second, he stood before her in soldier's uniform, like a flash of a premonition, and it made her heart skip a beat, tearing it apart. She'd been wondering whether that time would come for him, whether the war would go long enough that they'd draft him.

He had been a king in Narnia, a knight, a fighter of duels. He was no gunfodder, no footsoldier in a war that was, for all they could understand it, without meaning. It didn't change that in reality, he was a boy soon turning drafting age. They'd get him by force if he didn't go willingly. Fear almost made her choke on her question and she pushed the thoughts away.

"Are you all right?" she asked under her breath. Peter didn't react immediately; he opened the door for Lucy and Edmund to enter first. Then he hesitated on the step, leg tensed to heave himself into the carriage, and his eyes narrowed.

"I'm fine," he said.

"But -"

"I'm fine." His voice was sharp. It clearly said, 'let it go'. So Susan let it go, for now, but she couldn't help wonder what was going to happen. She couldn't help but wonder if Peter would get over this. She'd never had a broken heart, she'd never needed mending before. She didn't know if that was what made Peter look so pained, or something else. She didn't dare ask again.

"I can't wait to get home, Mum'll love to have us back," Lucy piped up. "Gosh, it's been a long time since we've seen her. Do you reckon she'll have meatballs for us this evening for dinner? I hate the food at school."

"We know," Edmund rolled his eyes. "You don't stop going on about it, after all."

Lucy crunched up her nose. "Just because you stuff everything down you can get your hands on."

"Stop it," Susan broke them up. "We're not alone."

And they weren't. An older man had joined them in the carriage, making Edmund, who'd sat down next to Peter, slide further up his bench to make enough room. Peter didn't seem to mind the invasion of personal space. Susan saw him relax a fraction, almost like the additional body curling into him triggered a reflex. She looked away. Then a younger girl joined as well, carrying a huge trunk. She popped her head in and asked in a light voice, "Is there any room in here? Everywhere else's up full."

So the rest of to voyage home was conducted in silence, with Lucy and Edmund sometimes mentioning a detail they marked along the way, or bickering amongst themselves over nonsense. Peter didn't say anything once, and Susan could do nothing but keep everything cordial and try to make her siblings not irritate the other passengers too much.

She had a feeling it was going to be a long summer.

 

~*~

 

Caspian had never been under the illusion that being king would be an easy feat, or even a pleasure, which was one of the reasons he'd never quite understood his uncle wanting the power so badly. It was a huge responsibility, and it was especially strenous if you wanted to be a good king. He learned within a week of his own rule that trying to appease everyone at once and fulfilling everyone's wishes equally was a thing of impossibility.

There were different tribes suddenly emerging from all over Narnia, wishing to put pledges and gifts to the new king's feet, wanting in return either assistance in martial disputes - in form of knights and fighting gear or treaties and support - or protection from warlike conflicts that were threatening to arise. The animals were still, in some parts of Narnia, more forced under acquiescence than free, and he had no idea what to do about the wild animals, which just wasn't right. There was a threat looming in the north, and peace was long not restored just because the Telmarians weren't under the influence of a demented power-hungry maniac anymore.

There was enough to do, certainly, and exhaustion was welcome in the evenings when he fell, barely able to disclothe, into his cold bed that was far too bare of another human being. He missed Peter so much at times he thought he was going to knuckle under the pressure and give the crown away, go back to the woods to live without human interference. But that would have been cowardice, and if there was one thing Caspian wasn't, it was a coward.

He'd followed Peter's advice, had formed a council of consultants for his rule. He wasn't completely alone, his uncle's leftover staff was still there, and the soldiers who'd educated him in swordfight, basic geographical and political knowledge. But he felt alone, and that was what counted. Before, he'd had Doctor Cornelius, and then Peter and the Pevensies and the centaurs.

But he held on, clenched his teeth and hung in there, because he knew it had to get better at some point; he'd maybe finally find some closer trustees, maybe even make some friends across the social barriers that had suddely leapt up between him and the castle workers; maybe, once they knew him better and knew he wasn't trying to wriggle in where he had access to the newest gossip about everyone in order to gain more power. He wasn't like that. They just didn't know it yet.

 

~*~

 

Into the second month of summer a letter arrived. Susan was the one to take it from the postman, and was very surprised to read that the letter came from Professor Kirke and was addressed to no other than Peter. For a second, she was tempted to open it on the way back inside but then reigned herself in and decided to be patient.

Their house in London had never been especially big, but it seemed to her that just a couple years ago they'd all had space aplenty, and that these days it was more cramped than comfortable. She didn't know how that had happened because they surely hadn't grown all that much in just two or three years? But because of that, Peter was more often than not to be found in their father's study these days, which had come as a surprise to almost everyone except maybe Susan herself.

It was the only place in the house, she knew, that none of them really liked to enter. There was her bedroom that she shared with Lucy, and the boys' bedroom, but Edmund was in there most of the time, when he wasn't helping mother in the kitchen or sitting on the front porch, drawing on sheets of paper their mum brought with her from the paper factory. The study was quiet, isolated and it had all the books and maps and geometrical calculations their father had been so fond of. Susan'd always known that Peter had a knack for them, had seen him solve them with the same stupefying ease he drew up battle plans for whole armies. He'd just never shown a passion for it until this summer.

She guessed it was one way to take his mind off things.

After the knock, he called her in, reluctantly almost like he didn't want to see her. That hurt, but she pushed the sensation away and stuck her head in. He was leaning back in his chair, teetering on its hind legs only with his arms crossed behind his head. A pencil was stuck between his teeth.

"There's a letter for you." She held it out to him.

Peter's eyebrows rose. "Who's it from?"

"The professor."

Peter took it, opened it with his pencil. He only skimmed the letter, she saw, then threw it onto his desk and glared at it.

"What is it?" Susan asked cautiously.

Peter glanced up at her, then back at the letter, clearly fighting an inner battle. Then he came to a decision. "He wants me to go visit him."

"Oh."

Peter shot her a look. "Don't look like that, it's not like I've been a barrel of laughs to be around lately."

Susan shrugged. "It's good to have you around at all."

"Well, it's not like I'm going."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm turning sixteen in a good month, which means they'll send me to the front." His smile turned wry. "Lucky me, I'll get to see Germany, or maybe France."

"Shut up," Susan snapped, because she'd thought about it, in the past month she'd had nightmares about it, and his flippant tone made anger surge up inside her like she'd never experienced before. "Just - just shut up, you complete and utter bastard. How dare you say something like that, and in that tone. To me! I love you Peter, by God I do, but sometimes, you need a smack across the face. Caspian's gone, live with it."

"This is not about Cas-"

"What is it about, then? Because you're not one to throw your life away, and you looked like you were dealing just fine leaving Narnia when we were still there, but since then, you've been closed-off and distant and - have you any idea what this is doing to Edmund, especially? He needs you. He needs you to be there for him, you selfish little boy, because he might not admit it, but he bought the crap you've always dealt out about being his male rolemodel now. If you go off and die, I swear by dad's grave, I'll get to whereever you are at the time and kill you all over again."

"Susan." Peter gave her a levelled look. "I can't do anything about it. You know how many soldiers die out there every day, and most of them are the boys my age, the ones who've never held a gun before. I can fight with a sword, but this is not a clean duel, this is leading us to the slaughterhouse. What am I supposed to do? Hope against all hope that I'll survive?" He paused, then said coldly. "I thought at least you'd understand."

"You want to make it easier for us that you'll be gone soon?" Susan asked, voice dry. "Why don't you go and give yourself a bullet right now, then? It's just as easy. Oh, Peter." She bit her lip. "I've been thinking about it, you know? There's a way you can get out of this, the easiest way, and don't you see - the professor has figured out the same thing. He's not stating it outright because letters are being monitored, but he wants to get you into university. If you get university status, you'll be excused from army service!"

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I'm not good enough for that. What am I supposed to do? Maths? I can calculate some simple equasions, do some basic geometry, but everyone can do that with a bit of skill, I've been playing around -"

"Stop telling people you're stupid. You're the smartest guy I've met, and Professor Kirke must think so too, otherwise he'd never invite you to his country house!"

"And what good'll I be to you there?"

"What good'll you be to us dead?" Susan switched the tables on him, using his own arguments against him. "C'mon. We'll miss you, but at least we'll know you're safe. We'll be going back to school in a few weeks, but you won't and if you're not at university by then, we won't even know if you're still alive or not."

Peter looked away from her. "We need to talk about this with mum."

"Do that," Susan said pointedly. "She'll be delighted to pay for your ticket, believe me."

"We'll see." But the longer he thought about it, the easier it seemed to be for him to believe this might actually work, and Susan could feel her shoulders relax as she saw Peter win finally against his own fears. She'd never wanted him to get hurt, and she couldn't do anything about him missing Caspian still, as he did, because his face always showed a mixture of longing and fondness whenever any of them mentioned him or their adventures together to their mother. But she could do something about him not going off to war - she'd always been good at changing Peter's mind. And sometimes, even she used her powers for good.

 

~*~

 

It took Caspian the better part of a year to stop hoping against hope that Peter would return, and then a few more months to be constantly reminded of him whenever his eyes fell upon his bed, the gardens, his sword or any other object Peter might have touched or talked about while he'd been in Narnia.

It took Caspian a lot longer than that to find someone he really trusted, and even then he was cautious when he took the young man to his bed, pleasured and was pleased in return, never quite letting his guard down. It was a young soldier who'd survived the war against the Giants of the North on Caspian's side, and he was beautiful, with slender limbs and a graceful mouth that spoke the dirtiest things as they made love.

He died upon the sword, of course, long before Caspian was ready to let him go, and left a hollow space in Caspian's heart once more that hurt whenever he moved. But Caspian was the king of Narnia, so he didn't much pay attention to his own heart as he slowly but surely put all of Narnia's wounds to rest and healed what he could in order to restore its beauty and peace. After all, that was the mission he had been given with accepting the crown, and by now, it wasn't even a burden anymore, just an everyday task that needed to be done.

He was around thirty years of age when the unexpected happened to him that he'd never even considered, because he'd been maybe too focussed or too narrow-minded to look. A girl slipped quietly into his life, on soft feathery steps, a few years his junior, dark-haired, a huntress from his woods who visited his dinners once in a while, watching him with a smile in her eyes that made him flush with a hotness he hadn't experienced in so long.

She confused him, never spoke unless in riddles, and she never left any indication that she expected anything of him, especially not when they wandered in the woods together, or rode their mares side by side, sharing the brilliance of the sunrays hitting the brown-gold leaves.

And a good three years after they first met, she said, "It is rather time we got married, don't you think?", one evening, stroking over his mare's mane, looking up at him with a strangely serious smile, as if she knew what he was going to say before he even held the thought conscious and he felt a little bit stupid for not asking her sooner, because he knew that if he was ever to spend his life with a woman, living side by side, content if not happy, it would be her. And he couldn't have Peter. Sometimes, when he looked at her just so, her eyes had the same shade as his, and the same expression of magnificence.

Aslan made an unexpected appearance at the birth day of their son, something Caspian hadn't foreseen, but his wife touched the lion's neck with her fingers and they seemed to be quite familiar with each other. It shook him more than he admitted even to himself, but it also brought a sense of peace to him that blurred out the pain in his heart, and everything felt a little brighter and a little less heavy after that.

It would have been easy to forget Peter, after over thirty years of not laying eyes on his face, not hearing his voice, not exchanging a single word, but as his son grew older, from childhood into adulthood, he kept remembering words Peter had spoken, important things about dynasties and heirs and finding a worthy successor. But Narnia was good these days, no more wars across the continents, the pirates appeased and reintegrated into society, the Giants conquered, their war instincts quelched, the animals protecting the borders of the lands.

Still, he knew it wouldn't be fair of him to expect it of Rillian to accept the crown without understanding the consequences, so he took him aside one evening.

"I know," Rillian nodded after Caspian had explained the responsibilities, the burden, the weight that was a whole universe on one's shoulders. "I think I'm ready. I think you taught me well and I think I can do it. I think I can be good to Narnia. I love Narnia."

And that was, Caspian realized, possibly all that really mattered. Maybe it was what Aslan had made sure of when he'd come with blessings on Rillian's birth day. That Rillian would care for the earth, the air, the creatures living on Narnia - and love it more than Caspian had ever been able to.

He didn't think Aslan really blamed him for it, but looking at Rillian, Caspian felt relief surge through him that his son wouldn't see it as a struggle, as a constant uphill fight to be won. Because in the depth of his heart, Caspian was still Telmarin, was still Peter's prince, was still the boy whose home and safe place was the sound of a horn. But Rillian was Narnian, heart, soul, body, and that would make him a king a thousand times better than Caspian ever was.

Maybe it was time to step down, he thought, and the freedom was overwhelming.

 

~*~

 

Rillian's coronation was one of the biggest celebrations Narnia had seen for a while. He was almost thirty years old and the day afterwards, he held the hand of his father and watched the light dwindle from his eyes, with sadness but without resentment. Leaving was part of life, he knew, and he had his whole life before him, even if his parents weren't there to share it with him any longer.

Aslan's arrival this time was neither unexpected nor unwanted. Caspian smiled when he recognized the huge lion, greeting him like an old friend.

"There is a wish you're free to make," Aslan offered silently, and his voice didn't waver on any syllable.

Caspian stared at him for a while, then asked, "A reward?" Rillian didn't like the edge in his father's voice.

"A gift," Aslan corrected gently. "A kingly gift for a kingly life."

"I'm just a prince," Caspian reminded him, and before Aslan could speak, he added, "and you know that's all I've ever wanted to be."

Aslan tilted his head, mane catching the sunlight, and to Rillian, it looked like he was smiling.

 

~~~


	5. Chapter 5

The platform was filled with people waiting for the train, boarding and getting off it, students and adults alike. There were windows of dark glass, one right before his eyes and when Caspian turned around he froze, staring at his reflection for long seconds, unable to tear his gaze off.

His face was young, unmarred, his hair no longer streaked with grey, his eyes clear of the sheen of old age. The clothes he was wearing were grey, an unusual cut he'd never worn before, but comfortable. A lifetime flashed before his eyes, but backwards, and stopped the day before the crown had been placed on his head, forever claiming him king.

"Prince again," he muttered, and quirked his lips up at the surge of pleasure that washed through his body, making him dizzy.

"Oh God."

Caspian hardly had time to turn on his heel towards the voice as he was scooped up in a tight embrace and the smell all around him was like he'd never forgotten, like it was just yesterday, the despair as he'd started to forget vanishing from his mind.

"Peter?" he asked and Peter stepped back, just a few inches, holding on to his shoulders. It was Peter all right, but not the same Peter as he'd known in Narnia. He was older, more beautiful, shining with life and knowledge, wisdom in his eyes. "You look older," Caspian marvelled.

"Five years," Peter croaked out. "Five. Oh God. How is this possible."

Caspian felt himself respond with a swallow. "It was no time at all and a whole lifetime for me."

"Let me take you home," Peter said. He didn't look confused at the answer, just resigned, and Caspian felt he might have imagined the flash of pain his eyes. "I - actually have my own apartment in London these days, so I'm closer to university."

"University?" Caspian asked.

"It's a place where students learn and professors teach," Peter explained. "I'm a bit of both." He grinned. "I'm going to be a professor."

"You're going to teach," Caspian nodded. "That makes sense."

"It does?"

Caspian smiled. He remembered a lifetime of following Peter's teachings all too well.

"You'll have to teach me all about this world," he said instead.

Peter stopped, turned around to him and looked him up and down. "You're staying," he concluded. "He's letting you stay?"

"A lifetime for a lifetime," Caspian said. "That was my wish." He hesitated. "If you'll have me."

"Always," Peter promised. Then he grinned sheepishly, like the boy Caspian had caught climbing out the window except he was hardly a young boy of fifteen anymore. "You'd think I'd have found someone else by now, but believe me if I say that having a social life during studies of mathematics and geometry and physics - don't ask - is completely and utterly impossible." He stopped himself, then looked at Caspian. "We have so much to tell each other."

"We do," Caspian agreed. "In your castle?"

Peter broke out in laughter. "In my castle, my room, my bed, if you like," he teased and couldn't help the glee at the thought of what Caspian's face would look like when he realized what exactly he'd gotten himself into, wanting to be a part of future Professor Pevensie's life.

"We can always send you to the country house," he mumbled to himself, chuckling quietly. "I'm sure Professor Kirke'll be delighted to meet you."

Caspian's eyebrows rose. "You have a country residence as well? Being a professor must be well-respected work in your world."

"You have no idea the abuse I have to endure," Peter complained, then, as they stepped out from the train station onto the busy streets, he pointed at the houses towering over them, shielding the sky from sight almost, but yet unable to keep the rays of the midday sun off the streets. "And this is London."

"London," Caspian repeated. It was different from everything he knew, and yet, a tingle of familiarity because Peter was right beside him, and he had the experiences of a whole lifetime to help him through the next weeks, months, years. Foreign wasn't bad, after all, just different. And he was good at adapting. He would be just fine.

 

~*~

 

The castle turned out to be quite the disappointment, but the bed far less so, especially since it was exactly slim enough to force them to press their bodies together, familiar yet oh so new as they re-explored skin, spots that had been sensitive before but weren't now, mouths finding an oddly well-known, yet different taste as they merged in kisses.

"You're a lying liar," Caspian gasped when Peter bit his neck and fingers dipped into Caspian's pants to touch him, firm and sure, practiced almost.

"I like to exaggerate is all." Peter found what he'd been looking for and rolled them, just half a rotation, landing between Caspian's thighs. "Don't need to exaggerate about this, though."

Which was true, but didn't improve the fact that Peter had been winding him up all along. It didn't help that Caspian had forgotten all about Peter telling him that he wasn't a king in England. Not that he cared.

And then Peter slid his pants down his legs, taking off his socks and chucking them over the edge of the bed, took him in his mouth and did something with his tongue that made Caspian choke on jolts of pleasure running up and down his spine. Under those circumstances, he completely forgot what he'd been debating in his head seconds before.

It was a nice change from thinking all the time.

When they were both exhausted, sated, lying satisfied against each other, bodies spent, Caspian rubbed his forehead gently against Peter's collarbone and asked, "Are Susan, Edmund and Lucy okay, then?"

"You'd like to see them?"

"Sure."

"Then we'll go see them." Peter seemed very pleased about that.

"What am I, in this world?"

That wiped the smile off Peter's face again. "I don't know."

"I can be anything, right?"

"Yes," Peter tranced his back with his fingertips. "Pretty much."

"But I have to be something?"

"Yes. But - it's not going to be a problem getting papers for you," he then added. "Not now."

"What's now?" Caspian asked curiously.

"The war is over for a few months now. There are a lot of people, soliders, families, nobody who thought they'd need any kind of identification back when the war started, and so many things got lost, bombed, destroyed, burned..." he sighed. "We can go to the offices tomorrow. You can be, I don't know. A French civilian caught up in the war, fled to Britain, I took you in, we'll think of something." Then a wicked grin spread over his face. "We'll just have to come up with a name."

"What's wrong with Caspian?" Caspian protested. It was, after all, the name his parents had given him.

Peter's hand on his back stilled and he was still grinning as he met Caspian's eyes. "Nothing at all. But we'll need a surname. I'm Peter Pevensie, you see?"

"Oh." Caspian nodded. "I can have yours?"

"No," Peter snorted. "No, you really, really can't. But don't worry. I have just the right one for you." He caught Caspian's mouth with his own for another kiss.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"What is it? Don't make me smack you!"

"Ah." Peter's grin widened, if that was even possible. "I was thinking we could go with Caspian Prince."

"Oh, that's funny," Caspian rolled his eyes, shoving at his shoulder.

"It's brilliant!" Peter pointed out.

"It's retarded," Caspian groused.

"You're just jealous because you didn't come up with it. And now shut up and make love to me again for being such a brilliant mastermind, and we'll register you tomorrow."

"I'm not -"

"I'm serious. Your hand, my groin. Caspian -"

Caspian stopped protesting when Peter put his tongue back in his mouth. That always worked, he smiled inwardly, and accounted another victory to himself. He'd missed their private little wars very much. He closed his arms around Caspian and pulled him even closer. "Missed you," he admitted.

"You have no idea," Caspian murmured into the kiss, low and heartfelt and made Peter's heart melt all over again for him.

They'd need to find Caspian something to do, Peter realized, and a second later that he actually knew exactly what. And then he put all those thoughts about metaphorical bridges, introductions and evaluations out of his mind and concentrated on the fact that they had a whole evening and night ahead of them. And then, a whole life.

 

~~~  
The End.

 

_~~ written July 2008_


End file.
